The Thing about Falling ✓

Forty Five • I Spy

Owen

I'm never trying sports again.

A few weeks has passed since I got better, and all I'm trying to do is find something that could scare the shit out of me to turn into a goddamn person, better than I had already been in the past.

Believe me when I tell you I had almost tried everything to keep my mind away from, things I'd rather keep quiet. 

I tried taking art classes, but I can't draw anything close to a discernible person, or color match something close to the actual reference. I tried cooking, but I can't get the instructions right. I even tried doing some volunteer work in a daycare, and as much as I tried not to dislike children, I found myself on the verge between keeping quiet about my dislike of children and my fondness of running over their tiny, little feet just to shut them up.

Just a few moments ago, I had just gotten out of my last class and found myself back at one of the libraries around school. 

A book on writing was in front of me, and I read it and took notes from the book, hoping that I could at least get something out of it. 

It was something about improving one's writing skills, since I barely listened to any of the lectures way back in middle and high school. 

As I was bent over the plainly thin guide book on writing, a flyer advertising the school paper had been crumpled under it. They're looking for writers. And if this goes well, I could be one of them.

For someone who reads a lot, I found it uncanny that I have never thought to write anything before, with the exception of grocery lists and my poor attempts of poetry during senior year. 

I devoured each page of the book, and forced myself to write samples of each, but today, I had been working on essays since they're a lot.

I wasn't the best at writing those during middle and high school. I just dumped words without being so involved in them. I didn't get lost in whatever I wrote previously. I simply threw them out of my head and never thought about them again. 

But I think I'm going to change that.

My head was lowered in concentration, as my eyes painfully scanned and tried to comprehend the crucial tips and proper writing style when it comes to those. My hair had been all over my sight, and it was a pain in the ass to keep pulling it back up. Didn't Athena leave one of her headbands back in my dorm room?

"Why are you following me?" I heard someone say as she walked in, her heels clacking down quite loudly.

"Why are you such a bitch?" another person said, this one, a guy.

I shot my head up a little and immediately caught my breath. 

It was Maya and Elliot.

I stilled.

"You know, this is why Sharon doesn't care about you. You're such a creep." Maya told him through her attempted whispers, but I can hear them perfectly from my distance.

Elliot looked annoyed for a moment, as he scratched his light head with a hand and glared at her.

"Sharon is my mother. Yeah, she doesn't give a single fuck about me but at least I try my best to be better. She's your mom too." he said in defense.

Maya's jaw was clenched and her ponytail was messy. I never see it that messy.

"Stepmother. I never liked her, and I don't think I'll ever like you if you keep following me like a fucking creep." she said as she stepped forward and shot a finger at him.